


Team Player

by PastafarianAlpaca



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Fuck Or Die, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Oral Sex, Pack Bonding, Sorry Not Sorry, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2800496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastafarianAlpaca/pseuds/PastafarianAlpaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late night conversation with Scott about some very personal issues leads to a trip to the local vet and a terrifying diagnosis - Heat. More specifically, werewolf pack heat. Werewolf pack heat with Stiles in the middle. Sure, he might be flattered that the pack bonds are his to protect, but he didn't sign up to be the sex toy of every beta in the pack.</p><p>The things he does for his friends. Seriously, how was this his life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first ever fic and it is completely unbeta'd. Please let me know if there are any spelling/grammar errors or if you have suggestions for improvement - constructive criticism is appreciated.
> 
> PLEASE READ THE TAGS! This is a Fuck Or Die fic, meaning the consent is dubious. Does Stiles want to have sex with the whole pack? No. But he'll do it to keep them alive. Keep in mind that it is assumed that most of the pack is 17, but Liam is much younger. They are in sexual situations with adults. If this is not your thing, please don't read. There are mentions of rape and incest. While these are not desired by the characters, and never actually happen, they are talked about by the characters.
> 
> A panic attack is briefly described - it fits with my own experience of panic attacks but may not match yours.

As far as Stiles was concerned, this was almost as bad as finding out that Scott had more than a passing acquaintance with the word ‘bestiality’. I mean, don’t get him wrong. He loved Scott like a brother and couldn’t have picked a better best friend if he’d tried. Hell, he’d walked into life-or-death situations more than once for the guy. But that didn’t mean that he enjoyed hearing every intimate detail of his bro’s sex life.

 

“Are you listening?” Scott asked from the foot of Stiles’ bed, where he was sitting morosely. Well, that was weirdly perceptive of him. Usually Stiles could just go off on whatever mental tangent he wanted, and Scott was none the wiser.

 

Stiles leaned back in his computer chair and tried to give Scott his full, undivided attention. “Uh, yeah. You’re, ah, having troubles with… er… that. Um, beating your meat, cranking your shank, slamming the ha-”

 

“Jerking off.” Scott interrupted. Dammit. It was much easier to list phrases than it was to think about Scott’s sex life. Stiles would have died a happy man if he didn’t have his best friend asking for masturbation tips.

 

“Soo…” Stiles noted. “You can’t… finish?” Please, God, just kill him now. This was painfully awkward. He would almost prefer finding out that Kate Argent was still alive than dealing with…this.

 

“Exactly,” Scott whined, flopping down on Stiles’ bed and burying his face in the pillows. “Last few times I was with Kira-” Yep, Stiles did _not_ need to hear this, “-I couldn’t come.” Scott sat up now, fixing Stiles with his serious eyes. “So I tried jerking off. And… nothing. I just couldn’t.”

 

Stiles leaned back in his chair and idly spun in circles, thinking. It was possible that this was some weird werewolf shit. In which case, Scott would probably have to talk to either Deaton or Derek. Which, huh, no wonder he’d come here first. Frankly, discussing sex with either of them sounded like the stuff of nightmares. On the other hand, the… situation… could be some form of trauma. I mean, with everything they’d been through, there were bound to be some psychiatric problems. Stiles himself was still afraid of sleeping, still counting his fingers multiple times a day, and the Nogitsune had been trapped months ago. It wouldn’t be weird for this to be some PTSD thing. On the other other hand – and just how many hands did he think he had? – this _could_ be some sort of supernatural attack.

 

“So when you, you know,” Stiles made some vague gestures that were supposed to communicate _masturbate_ so he didn’t have to say it, “did you struggle to get hard? Or... Well, I mean, what actually goes wrong?”

 

God help him, he was actually _asking questions_ , about _Scott’s sex life_. Urgh.

 

“It’s like I’m right there, Stiles. Just about to come, but I just _can’t_. Seriously, I haven’t been this sexually frustrated since that time my mom took three weeks holiday and I was scared she’d hear me if I was jacking off in my room.”

 

Stiles nodded his head along. Well, shit. That didn’t sound too good. Maybe he could try and subtly bring this up with his dad? _Hey Dad, do you think all of this werewolf drama could sexually stunt someone?_ Or something like that. On second thought, nope. No way was he going to try and talk to his dad about this. Just the thought of how _earnest_ his dad would be… No. Not happening.

 

But he had to do _something_. Stiles could not imagine a life without his private time. He didn’t want Scott to have to live one. Besides, it wasn’t healthy to let things build up.

 

“Okay, buddy,” He began. It was almost funny to watch Scott perk up. And he was being useful again, not so much Robin to Scott’s Batman, which felt… nice. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m going to stay up tonight and research some stuff, see if I can work this out. You are going to try and get some sleep, because you look like shit. If I can’t find anything, we’ll talk to Deaton after school.” Scott looked appropriately horrified at the idea of talking about sex with his boss. “I know, dude. But he’s a doctor, an animal doctor, sure, but still a doctor. And he’s, like, our werewolf expert, so he might be able to help.” Scott still looked upset at the idea. Stiles sighed. Of course he was going to be difficult about this. “Look, dude. You really want to live the rest of your life without orgasms? That’s not healthy. And Deaton’ll be our last resort.”

 

Scott’s jaw tightened slightly and then relaxed. He let out a deep breath, shoulders slumping. “Okay. So I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

 

He was out the window before Stiles could come up with a smartass comment. Just goes to prove how traumatising the whole damn thing was.

 

Stiles sighed and turned back to his computer. He had three assignments he could be doing right now, but like the awesomely awesome friend he was, he was putting Scott’s needs first.

 

Hopefully, he’d find something, get this whole thing sorted, and then never have to think of it again.

 

A guy could dream, right?


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles groaned as his alarm went off. He’d been up until dawn, researching everything from succubi to erectile dysfunction. Two hours sleep was not enough. This was flashbacks to the early Nogitsune days and that was just. Not. Okay.

 

He stumbled through the usual morning routine, barely broke any traffic laws on the way to school and pulled into the parking lot with enough time for a quick chat to Scott before first period. As it turned out, nobody had told Scott to be there early, even though it was _freakin’ obvious_. This was his damn problem. You’d think he’d want to hear about it.

 

But, nope. There was only Liam, cornering Stiles the moment he got out of his Jeep, which was… not normal.

 

“So, uh, hey,” the kid started, avoiding eye contact completely.

 

_Weird_.

 

“Hey, Liam, what’s happening in Liamsville?”

 

Liam was _still_ avoiding eye contact. He didn’t even look remotely exasperated. So. Freakin’. Weird. Stiles opened his mouth to say something about it, but Liam got there first

 

“If I wanted to see a doctor about, uh, a health problem, where would I go?”

 

Stiles blinked. A health problem? Werewolves didn’t get health problems. Except for Scott’s problem, of course, but that was…..

 

Holy shit.

 

“Holy crap!” He crowed. “You can’t come either.”

 

Okay, on second thoughts, he should have maybe tried not to sound so happy about that. He was just glad he’d worked out why Liam was acting so weird, alright? He certainly wasn’t happy that the kid couldn’t orgasm. And he should maybe have checked that they weren’t within hearing distance of any of their friends.

 

“Come?” Kira asked, from _right freaking behind him_. “Come where?”

 

After he’d flailed away from her in shock, he almost groaned. It just had to be Kira, didn’t it? Kira who was bubbly and naïve and probably wouldn’t realise that this had been a very private conversation.

 

“Well, ah, I mean, ah, what I was saying was,” Stiles started blathering, trying to think of a good excuse with Liam’s glare boring into his skull.

 

Which is when Scott and Lydia showed up, trailing Danny. Of course. Great. Now the whole damn crew was present for this.

 

“What I was saying,” Stiles repeated, “was that Liam couldn’t come” he gave Scott a significant look “to the boys night we’ve been planning. You know,” now he deliberately looked at Scott, who couldn’t pick up on _anything_ and was looking adorably confused, “the boys night we were talking about _last night_. That you can’t come to and now Liam can’t come to, either.”

 

Scott’s eyes widened with comprehension. “Oh, right! _That_ boys night. Yeah. The one we were talking about last night. So Liam can’t come, either. That’s, uh, that’s too bad. We should meet up after school and try and work out a good time for all of us.”

 

Well that wasn’t suspicious, _at all_. Lydia and Danny both looked unimpressed, Liam was shooting confused glances between the two of them, and Kira smiled adoringly at Scott. So, okay, it hadn’t been obvious enough for Kira to pick up on – if she could tell you were lying you could probably assume to whole world knew – but that many suspicious eyes were not fun. Not at all.

 

“So, great! Time for class.” Stiles declared, stumbling away from the impromptu gathering. And he didn’t run to the building. He just walked. Quickly.

 

 

 

The worst thing about supernatural friends? They were almost impossible to avoid. Luckily, Scott and Liam were both in on it and the three of them sojourned to the bleachers, where Liam was brought into the circle. One werewolf having sex issues? Could have been anything. Two werewolves? Something was wrong. And the chat had been, thank the merciful heavens, a lot shorter and less specific than his and Scott’s.

 

Which is what brought them to Dr Deaton.For further awkward conversation.

 

Stiles had to hand it to him, though. He remained completely unflappable and professional. After asking a few pertinent questions he disappeared to ‘check something’, leaving the three teens to avoid eye contact with each other. It was weird, okay? Talking so openly about masturbationary habits in scientific terms. I mean, locker room teasing was one thing, but this was just uncomfortable. For everyone. Stiles had learned far too much about his packmates. Far, far too much.

 

And then Deaton was back. Thank fuck.

 

“Well,” he began, “I think I know what your problem is.”

 

_Great_ , Stiles thought hysterically, because that look on Deaton’s face was never a good thing, _let’s fix it and then throw a party_.

 

“The pack is going into heat.”

 

 

What even.

 

How was this his life? _Heat_. The werewolf pack was going into _heat_.

 

“It’s quite natural, all things considered. In a pack this unstable, a prolonged period of peace would trigger the need to mate – breeding when the going is good, so to speak.”

 

Breeding. Holy shit.

 

“It should last about a week.” A _week_. A whole freaking week. Was this guy serious? “The alpha pair will be driven to mate, that would be Miss Yukimura and yourself, Scott.” Scott responded with a weird noise. Stiles was fairly sure all three of them were floundering and Deaton continued. “As for the betas in the pack, they will be driven to mate with the omega.”

 

“Mate with an omega?” Stiles’ voice cracked slightly. “But the only omega in town is _Derek_.”

 

“No,” Scott murmured, “Derek is part of the pack.”

 

Stiles opened his mouth to object because that left no one. Hold that thought, there was still _Peter_ and holy shit, no. No way in hell.

 

“Not that sort of omega,” Deaton interrupted, probably sensing the panic in the room. “I meant the omega of your pack. The one that is lowest on the totem pole, so to speak.”

 

Scott scrunched his nose in confusion.

 

“In a natural wolf pack, the omega is the wolf that the others release their frustration on-“

 

“The punching bag.” Stiles notes. Because his friend is a werewolf with wolfy instincts and so he has researched the crap outta natural wolves.

 

“Well, in a crude sense, yes,” Deaton notes. “But they are far from being undervalued. The omega is an essential part of the pack. In fact, when the omega dies they are mourned just as much as, if not more than, the alphas. They serve as the glue that enables to pack to function happily. In a werewolf pack, they are the person that the wolves bring their emotional needs to. Werewolves will naturally trust their omega to provide aid and comfort where the alpha provides protection and guidance. It’s instinctive. Who in your pack, is the emotional foundation?”

 

“Stiles.” Scott says instantly.

 

Stiles bristles. Puh-lease. Nobody trusts him with their emotional needs. Sure, he’d comforted Lydia more than once, and Scott obviously, and Liam had come to him this morning, and there was the shoulder touch that Derek had leaned into when Boyd died, but… Okay. So maybe he had a point. But that didn’t make him the omega. He gave Scott orders – Scott. The True Alpha. He was fairly sure that the alpha would not take that shit from the omega.

 

Except Liam was nodding. “Definitely Stiles.”

 

Oh, come on. Seriously?

 

“Well then, Mr Stilinski,” the vet noted calmly, “I’ll put together some information for you. The heat will be particularly tough on you, being human.”

 

Stiles gaped at him. “The heat? I won’t be going into heat, will I? I’m human.”

 

Deaton gave him a sad smile. Almost _pitying_. And that? That was not cool.

 

“The entire pack will go into heat. All members, no matter which subspecies they are. And every unmated member of the pack will be compelled to copulate with you.”

Copulate. There was nothing okay about this. Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but Deaton kept going.

 

“This is not a compulsion they will be able to resist, Mr Stilinski. If they are not satisfied, there is every chance that they could die. This heat is not just heightened arousal. It is fed through the pack bonds. Fighting it is unadvisable.”

 

“So, wait.” Liam cut in. “Are you saying I’ll want to fuck him?” He sounded both disgusted and doubtful.

 

Which, _rude_. But probably accurate.

 

“Not want,” Deaton noted, calmly, “Need. You will need to have sex with Mr Stilinski or risk hurting yourself and those around you.”

 

Stiles was sputtering a little bit. “The whole pack? The whole pack is going to want to fuck me?”

 

“With the exception of the alpha pair, yes.”

 

How the fuck could that dude be so calm? Jesus Christ. So sure, Stiles had been bemoaning his virginity right up until Malia started crawling into his bed, but he had never, ever, wanted that much sex. Ever. Well, maybe once or twice, but that was before he realised how strenuous sex was.

 

“Who’s even counted as pack?”

 

Scott hummed thoughtfully. “Well, there’s me, Kira, you, and Liam, of course. But also Lydia and Malia.” Well that wasn’t so bad, was it? “Oh, and Derek.” Nope, it was pretty bad. But not _terrible_. I mean, Stiles wasn’t too concerned about gender and he wasn’t blind either. The dude certainly had some muscles. Like, muscles on his muscles. His muscles probably went to the gym to work out their muscles. Anyway, the point was that most of the peeps in the pack were pretty damn hot. This was definitely not end of the world material.

 

“What about your parents?” Deaton asked, gently.

 

Oh shit. Scott’s face said it all.

 

“Uh, yeah. My mom and, uh, well, Stiles’ dad. They’re in the pack.”

 

NO. Nope. Not in a million fucking years. What the hell? His _dad_ was going to want to have sex with him. Jesus, no. NO NO NO. FUCK NO. His heart rate was climbing and-

 

And apparently he’d said some of that out loud because Scott was making soothing noises and hushing him.

 

“Breathe, Stiles. You have to breathe. In and out. Breathe with me, Stiles.”

 

Oh. He was hyperventilating. Shit. It took a lot of effort, but he focused on Scott. Scott’s soothing voice and strong hands and deep breaths. Fuck. This is why he loved the guy, he thought wildly. It took a while for his breathing to come under control and when it did he was lying partially on the floor, partially in Scott’s lap as his best friend cradled him.

 

Deaton crouched in his line of sight. “I know this isn’t ideal.” Stiles made a disbelieving noise. Not ideal? Was he serious? This was terrible.

“Stiles.” The vet’s tone was commanding, drawing his attention back. “I will search for a way to keep your dad out of this. I did not bring up your parents idly. He is human. It should be possible to keep them both out of this.”

 

Stiles exhaled in relief, sagging back into Scott’s arms as Liam gave him a reassuring smile from his position hovering near them.

 

“However,” the emissary continued, “That still leaves quite a few members of this pack who _will_ go through their heat with you. You need to be prepared for this. It will be extremely physically taxing. These are supernatural beings responding to their basest instincts. They will not be able to reason or be reasoned with for the duration. It is quite possible that they will hurt you while seeking satisfaction. And there are, from Scott’s count, four of them. This won’t be easy.”

 

Deaton turned his gaze to Scott now, eyes boring into the Alpha. “I would suggest that you gather your pack. They need to be aware of what is happening and be ready for it. You will also need to find a location for this to occur, both for yourself and Kira, and for the other five. Make sure you have plenty of food and water for everyone, because none of you will be capable of going outside.”

 

He rose from his crouch and studied them, nodding at what he saw. “Now. I have some books that you might consider reading. They should answer your remaining questions.”

 

Stiles slowly climbed off Scott and shook himself a little.

 

Holy cow. Out of every possibility he had considered, this had never ever come up.

 

I mean, who in their right minds would consider that they were going to spend a week getting biblical with their closest friends?

Stiles sighed. He was so fucked. In a very literal sense.


	3. Chapter 3

The pack was horrified. Predictable, but still a bit hurtful. I mean, come on! Having sex with Stiles wasn’t _that_ bad, was it?

 

They were all gathered in the McCall living room, eating pizza and drinking soda. Considering his impending doom, Stiles had even let his father have free rein on the cheesy goodness.

Scott had waited until everyone was happily tucking in before dropping his bombshell, with the expected results. Melissa was already wiping off the coffee table where the sheriff had snorted his soda. The rest of the pack were alternating between staring at Scott in shock and shooting doubtful glances at Stiles.

 

Unexpectedly, it was Lydia who assuaged their doubts. And it only took one pointed question.

 

“Well, who here has been able to orgasm in the past few days?”

 

Both Liam and Scott looked down immediately. Well, he’d already known about them. No. What was shocking was Kira’s immediate blush – which Scott gave a betrayed look to – and the sudden eye avoidance of both Mrs McCall and _Stiles’ Dad._ Which, nope. He was not thinking about that. Ew. Just, ew. Lydia just looked calm, Derek looked slightly angrier than usual and Mr Argent – who wasn’t pack but had been informed that the town would have a group of sexually frustrated teen supernaturals – looked morbidly fascinated. Even Malia was studiously avoiding his gaze.

 

“So, then,” Lydia noted brightly. “Heat. We need to know more about this and we need to know who’s in the pack. Stiles,” she turned her razor eyes on him. “You should probably go and talk to Danny. Get some pointers.”

 

“Pointers about what?” He had a very bad feeling about this.

 

“Gay sex.”

 

Scott choked. The sheriff looked faintly sick. Stiles flailed with his mouth open.

 

Melissa cleared her throat. “That’s probably a good idea, Stiles. With, er, Liam and Derek being in the pack. From my understanding, some preparation is required for anal intercourse.”

 

He really had to give her credit for maintaining a professional demeanour. Stiles’ dad, on the other hand, had gone red, then white, then an interesting shade of green. Now he was slowly getting angry again.

 

“What if Stiles says no? Surely he can say no to this. No one could expect an _underage_ boy to be willing to…” He clamped his mouth shut.

 

Derek sighed and rubbed his face. “Of course he can say no. But if he does, the whole pack is going to be in danger. And he will have to hide. Because if any of us find him when we are in heat…. Well, let’s just say that all of the ‘No’s in the world won’t stop us.”

 

Chris nodded his agreement. “He’s right. We don’t know much about the biology, but hunter lore says that a pack in heat is an extremely easy target. They are mindless and if they can’t get it out through sex, they turn to violence. A pack without an omega tends to implode in a wash of rape and murder. And when the hunters go in, the kills are easy. Like hunting animals down. They show no intelligence and no regard for their own safety. So, yes, Stiles can say no. But he’d be condemning the rest of the pack to almost certain death. Even if we managed to restrain them all, they would injure themselves trying to escape.”

 

“I’m not saying no.”

 

Stiles’ dad opened his mouth to protest, but he held up his hand to cut him off.

 

“Dad, no. I might only be seventeen but I am old enough to decide which I decisions I can live with and which ones I can’t. These guys have put themselves in danger for me more than once. And I’ve done the same right back. If it comes down to it, I would prefer to die slowly and painfully from some violent-sex-induced injury than to live knowing that my friends, my _pack_ , had died when I could have helped them. This,” he cut his dad off before the man could protest, “is my decision to make. I’ve chosen to walk into almost certain death for these people. You really think I’m going to refuse to have sex with them to save their lives? Even if they do end up eating me or something, I’ll be there for them.”

 

The sheriff blinked, then nodded. Derek leaned across the table and clapped his shoulder.

 

“We won’t hurt you, Stiles. You’re the omega. It’s in our instincts to protect you.”

 

Well, that was reassuring. At least he wouldn’t die by violent werewolf heat sex. Unfortunately, all of the books Deaton had lent him suggested that death by sex induced dehydration was totally possible.

 

Lydia coughed delicately, drawing the attention back to her. “We need a plan. Firstly, I would like to read over those books of yours,” Stiles nodded. He had them in the jeep, because he’d been expecting that. “Secondly, we need to work out where this is going to happen. It should be somewhere that we can all stay, preferably with space to drag mattresses together. From what you’ve said, this will practically be an orgy. Derek’s loft would be ideal for privacy.”

 

Derek nodded his acquiescence at her pointed look. “You can use the loft,” he offered reluctantly, “but you have to bring your own mattresses. Ones that you can burn afterwards.”

 

Lydia pulled out her phone and made a note. “I can arrange mattresses,” she muttered distractedly, “but we will need food, and lots of it.”

 

“Make a list,” Scott suggested, “and we can all chip in for it. Now, are Kira and I staying near you guys?”

 

“Yes,” Melissa said, without hesitating. “If John and I are not going to be affected, then we would prefer you all in one place. That way we can check up on you.”

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Chris interjected. “They probably won’t be able to answer phones, so unless you want to see your children having sex, I would suggest staying away. I’ll check in on them. I’ll also ring the place in mountain ash, just as a precaution. Scott, is Isaac still in your pack?”

 

Scott’s eyes widened. “Yeah, he definitely is. Which means he’s going into heat as well.”

 

Chris sighed. “I’ll call him. He’ll have to come back.”

 

“On that note,” Stiles interjected, “what about Peter, Cora, and Jackson? Are any of them pack?”

 

Scott shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

 

“Well, you’d better be sure,” Derek cautioned. “We can’t afford to have crazy werewolves running around. Everyone is going to be frustrated for the next few weeks, as is, because the body will be cutting your libido in preparation for the heat. You’ll also be a lot hungrier, because you’ll be stocking up on energy.”

 

“Like a bear preparing for hibernation,” Stiles noted drily. “Except you’re werewolves preparing for a week long orgy.”

 

“And you’re the human omega, so you’d probably best stock up on lube and muscle relaxants.”

 

Stiles sighed. “Right. Well I’ll talk to Danny tomorrow. That should be fun.”

 

Lydia looked up from her notes, “I’ll start arranging the necessities.”

 

“I’ll make sure we know for certain who’s pack and who isn’t,” Scott interjected.

 

“And the rest of us will try and prepare ourselves emotionally for the fact that we’ll want to _have sex with Stiles_.” Derek suggested wryly.

 

There were a variety of disgusted faces being pulled, which just went to show that the pack didn’t know a good thing when it bit them on the ass. And did he really want to think about ass biting in these circumstances?

 

Ah, well. They’d see who was smug in a few weeks time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to AmilleaMoravii for beta-ing :D Any remaining mistakes are all mine. Two more chapters, and then all of the porn. Seriously. So. Much. Porn. Thanks for reading and to everyone who left kudos and comments. You're all so nice :D

Stiles liked to think of himself as more suave than he knew he actually was. Which was probably why his carefully planned out speech to Danny ended up with him dragging the other teen into an empty classroom and blurting out the whole story.

 

“So Danny. Hypothetically speaking, if you were a dude who was gonna have to have sex with dudes and you’d never done _anything_ with a dude but you were kinda gonna have to do _everything_ you can possibly do with a dude….What would you do?”

 

Danny looked at Stiles like he was completely insane. It was actually sad how familiar the expression was. Stiles had seen it on many, many faces. Hell, he’d seen it on Danny’s face.

 

“There’s a good reason for me to be asking this,” Stiles said to reassure him.

 

“You know, Stilinski,” the goalkeeper said, “I cannot even imagine a single situation where you would need to know this.”

 

“Okaaay. Well there is totally a good reason. That reason is that, ah, well. So, it’s like this. Imagine that there’s a werewolf pack.” Danny’s eyebrows shot up. “Right, and the pack is going into heat. And they all have to have sex with the one person, and that person is male and some of the pack are male. Are you still with me?”

 

“The hypothetical werewolf pack is going into heat,” Danny said flatly.

 

“Right. So if I needed details on the, er, _mechanics_ of that, like from the point of view of someone who is going to be very, very involved, would you be able to, uh, shed some light?”

 

Danny wrinkled his nose slightly. “Well, this explains a lot. Wait. Does this mean that you’re going to have sex with McCall?” He looked both intrigued and disgusted at the idea.

 

Stiles gave Danny his best innocent face, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Me? Scott? Psh. What do we have to do with this? This is hypothetical. Obviously. Like in a book or something. Why would you even bring Scott into this?”

 

Danny frowned, leaned back against the teacher’s desk, and crossed his arms. “Well, he’s the alpha. So he’d be getting first dibs on your ass.”

 

Stiles gaped and stumbled a little. “You, wha-? How? How do you know that? You know about _werewolves_?!”

 

Danny raised his eyebrows. “Probably before you did. I can’t help with heat or whatever though.”

 

“I just need to know how to have gay sex,” Stiles blurted.

 

“You’ll need the other guys to know the basics as well,” Danny said dryly. “Look, I’ll talk to you after school, okay? I actually wanted to get some lunch today.”

 

“So you’ll help me?”

 

Danny rolled his eyes. “Yes, Stilinski, I’ll make sure your ass is prepared. And if your cousin Miguel or that hot deputy enjoy it more than they expect to, be sure to send them my way.”

 

“Hot deputy?”

 

“Yeah, dude. The phoenix? Young, gorgeous, came here to diffuse a bomb? Part of Scott’s pack? Any of this ringing a bell ‘cause I could get all up on that.”

 

Stiles felt his mouth fall open. “ _Parrish_? He’s not part of the pack!”

 

Danny uncrossed his arms and stood up from his slouch. “Dude’s definitely part of the pack. And a phoenix. Have fun with _that_.”

 

He strolled out the door, leaving Stiles gaping in his wake. Great, just great. Now he was going to have to find a way to explain this to his father’s deputy. And work out how the hell Danny knew so damn much when everybody had been going out of their way to keep him out of the loop.

 

 

 

The good thing about being the son of the sheriff was being able to access the personal information of the deputies at the station. Sure it wasn’t _legal,_ and his dad would kill him for abusing his knowledge of his dad’s passwords, but it was easy. Which is how Stiles wound up outside the apartment of one Jordan Parrish, his favourite deputy, knocking out a rhythm against his door and shifting from foot to foot.

 

For all of the time they’d spent together with the whole deadpool/assassins situation, this guy wasn’t one of his friends. Which made things awkwarder. I mean, having wild out-of-control sex with people who wouldn’t hold it against him was one thing. Having sex with his father’s deputy who he didn’t know? That, well… that was another. And having to tell his father’s deputy about the upcoming sex-fest was the worst.

 

Parrish opened the door in jeans and a tight t-shirt. And that was just unfair. I mean, Stiles didn’t _want_ to objectify him, but he was making it pretty damn hard, what with his defined jaw and abs and kind green eyes and abs and biceps and _abs_.

 

“Stiles?” He looked surprised, eyebrows pulling down slightly. “What are you doing here?”

 

Well, Stiles wasn’t interested in talking about this in the open, but he wasn’t sure how to broach that, so he settled for shifting his eyes up and down the hallway.

 

Luckily, Parrish got the message and stepped back, gesturing him inside.

 

The apartment was small, but almost freakishly neat, and clean. There was little in the way of furniture, but the living room floor was clean, the kitchen benches shined and there was a conspicuous lack of any television, but a laptop was sitting open on the gleaming coffee table. All things considered, it was exactly what Stiles would have expected from Parrish if he’d taken the time to think about it.

 

Parrish gestured him to take a seat on the couch and offered him a drink. “I’ve only got water, I’m afraid. Wasn’t expecting company.” And didn’t that say something about the deputy’s lifestyle? He should probably enlist the man’s help in keeping his dad healthy.

 

After handing Stiles a bottle of cold water, Parrish dragged his armchair around to face the teen, and leaned forward slightly, eyes intent on the boy’s face. “What are you here for, Stiles?”

 

Stiles squirmed slightly, flushing. Oh God. How was he supposed to explain this? He coughed to clear his throat. “So I worked out what you are.”

 

Parrish’s eyebrows shot up as he waited for an explanation.

 

“A phoenix, dude. You’re a phoenix.” Stiles fumbled through the backpack next to him and pulled out a bunch of notes, which he handed over to Parrish. “This is just some research that I put together from the Argent bestiary and what we could find on Peter’s computer. It should, ah, explain some of the phoenix stuff. I can help you with more research later, if you’d like.”

 

Parrish rifled through the notes and then set them aside on the coffee table and pinned Stiles with his gaze. It was so earnest and direct. Stiles instantly looked away and felt a hot blush creep up his neck.

 

“Anything else?” the man asked softly.

 

“Well, ah,” Stiles started, feeling the blush spread across his cheeks. “Okay. This is going to sound so weird. But, ah, have you had trouble, er, well, um, orgasming the past few days?”

 

Parrish choked slightly on his water and instantly avoided eye contact. “Is this a phoenix thing?” he asked, sounding strangled.

 

“Not exactly,” Stiles hedged. “It’s a supernatural thing.”

 

The man sighed, “Yes,” he muttered quietly. “I haven’t been able to, ah-“

 

“Yep,” Stiles yelped, cutting him off. His face felt so hot he could probably fry eggs on it, and Parrish’s cheeks were distinctly pink. Oh hell. This was so awkward. “So, um, apparently you’re part of the pack. Welcome to the family, I guess.”

 

Parrish blinked a few times and sat back in the chair, looking both surprised and … pleased? Huh. Go figure.

 

“Anyways,” he plunged ahead, drawing the deputy’s attention back to himself, “the whole, erm, orgasm thing is because thepackisgoingintoheat.”

 

He stalwartly ignored the noise Parrish made and avoided eye contact.

 

“Heat.” The man’s voice was flat.

 

“Yeah, uh, heat. It’s a werewolf thing, but because you’re pack and supernatural, you’ll go into heat as well. And your libido should be down because the body is saving up or something like that which doesn’t really make sense because Scott says he’s still horny, just not able to come and storing that up is stupi-”

 

“Stiles,” Parrish cut him off. “Tell me about heat.”

 

“Well, um, you’re a beta in the pack, so you’ll want to have sex with the omega. It’s a way of cementing pack bonds while the alphas take care of the, um, breeding side of things. That way we can all come together as a pack and care for the pregnant alpha female and pups and stuff. At least that’s what the books say. Oh! I have photocopies of most of the stuff from the books if you wanted to read through it, I mean, I don’t know if-“

 

“Omega?” the man asked, voice cutting through Stiles’ rambling like a knife through butter.

 

“Yeah,” Stiles started. Holy shit. How was he supposed to tell this guy that he was the omega? _Yeah, I know it’s weird, but you’ll totally need to screw me seven ways ‘till Sunday. Sorry._ No. He couldn’t. So he hauled the packet of photocopies out of his bag and dug around for a pen. Very quickly he scribbled ‘omega = stiles’ on the second page and handed the notes to Parrish. Then he zipped up his bag, stood up, and slung it over his shoulder.

 

“Look. Just read through this so you understand what’s going on. We’re having a pack meeting tomorrow night at my place, so you should come by. And, uh, my dad knows about this whole thing so he’s going to sort out time from work and stuff. Okay. Well, bye.”

 

And with that he walked out the door and bolted down the stairs. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Sorry for the wait - Christmas and stuff :D I'm most of the way through chapter 6. Just a warning for some angst this chapter. And mentions of knotting. Enjoy!

Dinner the next night was awkward, to say the least. Derek had sprung for Chinese, and Scott had brought over enough chairs that the entire pack, including Parrish, and Mr Argent could sit around the small table in the Stilinski dining room and eat.

 

Stiles, for his part, picked at his food and avoided making too much eye contact with anyone. Reading through the rest of Deaton’s books had been… enlightening, to say the least. He hadn’t been kidding about pack bonding. There would be some intense emotional bonding happening, centred around the omega – Stiles. It was a pretty big responsibility. Deaton hadn’t been exaggerating when he said that the omega was almost more important than the alpha in a werewolf pack.

 

He cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing the attention of the table. “So, uh, I spoke to Scott about my chat with Danny and how he knows _everything_.” Most of the pack had already heard about this at lunch, from which Danny was conspicuously absent. “Did you find out what that’s about, buddy?”

 

Scott swallowed his mouthful of noodles, bobbing his head. “All he’d say is that his parents know most things that happen in Beacon Hills and that his family was here before the town was. I spoke to Deaton today, and he knows the Mahealani family, but wouldn’t tell me anything either. Apparently they ‘observe events’ without ‘interfering’. Danny did give me a list of everybody in the pack, though. Deputy Parrish was the only unexpected one.” He nodded to Parrish who jerked his head in acknowledgement.

 

Lydia, unsurprisingly, whipped out her phone and typed for a moment before pursing her lips. “Okay, so that means the pack is now Scott, Kira, Stiles, Malia, Liam, Derek, Isaac, Jordan, Mr Stilinski, Mrs McCall and myself?” She raised her eyebrows at Scott, who pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his jeans pocket and scanned it before nodding his agreement.

 

“Okay,” Lydia forged ahead. “I have mattresses sorted and a list of quick, easy and nutritious foods that we can store for the heat. We’ll have to go shopping when the time draws a little bit closer. I’ve read through everything Deaton gave Stiles, but it doesn’t say when we can expect the heat to start.”

 

“There will be warning signs,” Derek interjected.

 

And that was it. That was all he said before turning back to his food and shovelling it into his mouth. And, seriously? Stiles knew he wasn’t allergic to talking. There was no excuse. None. _Everyone_ looked exasperated – even Parrish, who didn’t really know the guy.

 

“Thank you, Derek,” Lydia noted sharply. “Mind telling us what those signs are? Or would you prefer to wait until you’re humping the furniture?”

 

Derek glared at her and then looked at Stiles. “The main one is that we’ll all want to take care of Stiles.”

 

Liam looked like he’d sucked on a lemon. Which, _rude_. “Take care of?”

 

Derek nodded. “Provide for. We’ll want to feed him in the days leading up to the heat and hug him and generally make sure he’s okay.”

 

Lydia’s eyebrows arched as she typed more into her phone. “That doesn’t seem very analogous to a natural wolf pack.”

 

“But we’re a _were_ wolf pack,” Scott interjected. “Deaton says that the omega’s role is almost totally different. In a wolf pack, they’re the punching bag and are used to let off steam. In a werewolf pack, they’re responsible for the emotional wellbeing of the pack members and in return the pack feels extremely protective of them, just like they feel inclined to listen to the alpha and follow the alpha’s orders.” He looked proud to have remembered everything.

 

Parrish coughed. “I still don’t understand this whole _heat_ thing. I get that we will want to… have sex… with Stiles-” he shot the sheriff an apologetic look, “-but I don’t get _why_. And I don’t get why I’m part of the pack, either.”

 

Derek shrugged. “You’re part of the pack because Scott feels like you’re part of the pack. He wants you in the pack, you’ve fought with us. Welcome to the family.”

 

“And the pack wants to fuck Stiles as some sort of bizarre wolfy bonding experience,” Lydia noted. She sounded less than impressed.

 

“Why _Stiles_?” Parrish asked. His evident confusion and doubt was insulting. Why did no one want to have sex with Stiles?

 

“Just lucky,” Stiles snarked. “Everyone wants all up on this.” He gestured to his head and torso.

 

“We’re still trying to work that out,” Melissa assured him. “From what Dr Deaton said it’s just the pack dynamics. It’s all about drawing the pack together to strengthen the bonds and unify everyone.”

 

“Hence the sexing,” Lydia interjected. “Which we need to prepare for. Derek, what can we expect?”

 

Derek scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t really know. My pack was my family. We were already plenty unified. There was no need for heat. All I have is what I can remember hearing from my parents. And what Peter had on his laptop. From what I can gather, it’ll come in waves. Lucky for Stiles, while we will maintain a high level of, erm, _arousal_ , we won’t be mindless in his presence.”

 

“How many boxes of condoms should we lay up?” Melissa asked.

 

The whole pack stopped and stared.

 

“What?” she asked. “No glove, no love.”

 

Scott groaned and hid his face.

 

“No,” Lydia said. “Us girls have already arranged alternate contraceptives. The sharing of body fluids is paramount. Hence the burnable mattresses.”

 

“Body fluids,” the Sheriff muttered, sounding horrified. Melissa clapped him on the shoulder supportively.

 

“What about testing?” Parrish asked.

 

“Werewolves cannot catch or carry diseases. The healing factor eradicates them,” Derek responded.

 

“The rest of you have an appointment at the hospital for tomorrow morning,” Liam added.

 

“I’m so glad I’m not the only medical professional that knows about all of this,” Melissa murmured. “Please thank your parents,” she said to Liam. The boy nodded.

 

“Is there anything else?” Scott asked. “I have to get onto my homework if we’re taking a week off school.”

 

“Well, there is something,” Derek said, looking slightly flushed. “It’s a, uh, werewolf thing that only happens during heat.”

 

The pack looked at him as he fidgeted awkwardly.

 

“How much do you know about canine anatomy?” he asked after a long pause.

 

“What, like the names of bones and stuff?” Kira asked, confused.

 

“More, ah, sexual anatomy,” the wolf responded.

 

No way. Was he-? No. He couldn’t be. But what if he _was_?

“Are you talking about knotting?” Stiles asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

 

“What?!” Scott yelped. “How do you know about that?”

 

“The internet,” Stiles replied. “It gets weird sometimes.” Understatement of the century.

 

The rest of the room looked baffled. And, really? They all had access to the internet. One would think they’d never gotten caught in a pornado before. Stiles had, on several occasions, and that downward spiral of links was the _worst_. Or the best. Depending on how you looked at it.

 

“It’s called the _bulbus glandis_ ,” Derek noted awkwardly. “When the male wolf mounts the female the base of the penis swells to lock the couple together. It’s supposed to increase the chances of contraception. Werewolves knot during heat.”

 

Liam wrinkled his nose. “That sounds… painful. For everyone.” He shot a guilty look at Stiles, which, fair enough. Knotting was a weird concept to consider in terms of reality. Like, this was actually going to happen to him?

 

“Knotting dildos are supposed to be quite pleasurable,” Parrish interjected. “You’ll want to stretch yourself in the next few weeks, though.”

 

The pack stared at him.

 

“I’m bisexual,” he said softly. “Some of my, ah, ‘friends’ liked things like that.” He shot the sheriff a slightly scared look, obviously waiting to be judged.

 

“That’s great!” Stiles said.

 

The pack’s disbelieving stares switched to him.

 

“Well, it’ll be good to have someone there who knows what they’re doing. I mean, it’s me, two women, and four men. The odds are against us. I figure having one experienced person will help. Danny’s notes can only take us so far.”

 

“Excellent,” the sheriff said. “Experienced. To help four men have _sex with my underage son_. Fantastic.”

 

Everyone winced. Parrish opened his mouth but stopped at the slight head shake Melissa gave him.

 

The sheriff seemed to pick up on the tension, looking away and heading to the kitchen with a muttered comment about dishes. Stiles refrained from pointing out that there were no dishes and let him go. There was going to be a long and painful conversation in his future, he just knew it.

 

There was a long, awkward silence as everybody struggled for words.

 

“I’d better get home,” Kira said brightly. “Lots of homework and stuff.”

 

The rest of the pack quickly made their excuses and left, leaving Stiles to gather all of the empty takeout containers. Cowards. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and headed into the kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hi there! Sorry that this has taken so long - I've been going through quite a bit lately (studying and working for over 60 hrs a week doesn't help either). Please note that I'm removing the PWP tag, because plot totally took this over. Also, please comment any pairing (or tripling) you want. I was originally planning on keeping Stiles with Malia.... Just with some adjustments (because abusive relationships are bad). But not any more! Mwahahahaha. Keep in mind that Sciles is totally not going to jive with my plans. Sorry. Your pairings don't have to include Stiles, either. You can demand Malia/Lydia, or Malia/Liam or Lydia/Parrish. Also, feel free to demand any sex positions you wish - I've written four sex scenes, but need a fair few more.
> 
> Anyways. I'm back! Thanks to everyone who kept up. You guys have actually brought me heaps of happiness in a not so fun time :D

The sheriff was pouring Jack into a tumbler when Stiles walked in with his pile of trash. He refrained from saying anything, but shot a pointed glare at the bottle. Apparently he got his point across because his dad sighed and put the bottle back on its shelf, grabbing his glass and walking into the living room. Stiles dumped the takeout containers in the bin and followed. Oh, shit. Was it too much to ask for a convenient supernatural emergency? Could aliens invade or something? That would almost be preferable.

 

“Dad…” he murmured.

 

“I get why you’re doing it, and I won’t try to stop you, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” the sheriff grumbled, a bone-deep weariness in his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said, guilt eating away at him. He’d done nothing but worry his dad, time and time again. After the Nogitsune, he’d sworn that he’d be more careful, that he wouldn’t put himself in danger. And now his dad was drinking again.

 

“Not your fault,” the sheriff said, waving his apology off. “I just hate that you have to do this. And once it’s over, we’re going to look into counselling options. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but now I’m certain.” He held up a hand to stall Stiles’ objections. “I know that you won’t be able to tell them everything, but we can work out a story beforehand. You’ve seen too much, kid. I just want to make sure that you’re coping with it. In return, I’ll let you keep making the big decisions. Do we have a deal?”

 

Did they have a deal? If this would make his dad feel better about everything. Well…

 

“Deal,” Stiles said.

 

The sheriff exhaled slowly. Then he walked over and folded his son into a hug. Stiles returned it eagerly. Funny how things changed. Before everything, he’d have been awkward and embarrassed at being hugged. Now? Now he would take every comfort he could. So he leaned his head onto his dad’s shoulder and let himself soak in the feeling of safety for a while. After some awkward back slapping, they parted, clapping each other on the shoulder and hovering next to each other in uncomfortable silence.

 

“I’ll, ah, just be upstairs,” Stiles murmured, gesturing with his thumbs. “Homework and stuff, you know.”

 

“Right. Yeah. You should do that. I’ll be watching tv if you need me or want to chat or something.”

 

Stiles escaped upstairs.

 

* * *

 

 

He was woken from a light slumber by Malia, who was crawling into his bed with him for the first time since news about the heat had broken.

 

“Wha-?” he asked groggily. “Whozzit? Malia?”

 

She made a noise of affirmation, snuggling up to him. Which would have been par for the course, but she’d been avoiding him for days. So he forced his heavy lids open and turned over onto his side, facing her. Jeez. She’d better appreciate that he was giving up sleep – sleep! – for her.

 

They’d never had a relationship talk, as such, and monogamy had never come up. It hadn’t been a problem, because Stiles had no one else that he wanted – that wanted him back, anyway – so he’d never needed to think about cheating. Not that it mattered. Malia was almost viciously practical. He was almost certain that she would fine with everything. But…

 

“It’s only for heat,” he said, breaking the silence.

 

“What is?”

 

“Having sex with the others. It’s not… I won’t cheat on you.”

 

The girl grumbled blearily at him. “What’s cheat? Like on a test?”

 

Stiles felt his mouth drop open. He groaned internally. Of course. The girl had lived most of her life as a coyote in the woods. Things like relationships and cheating and pretty much any social interaction were totally alien to her – like that one time with Mr Yukimura and the civil war class that ended up with half the class cowering under their desks and… nevermind. The point was that he should have _known_. For Christ’s sake, she still ate small rodents sometimes. Raw. And while he’d convinced her not to do it where people could see, her only other concession to his delicate human sensibilities was to clean her teeth before kissing him.

 

“Usually, when humans have romantic relationships, they only have sex with the one person. It’s… Look. You know how coyotes keep with the one mate? And they don’t mate with others?”

 

The girl nodded. “I didn’t have a mate before, but now I have you. My mate.”

 

Stiles choked slightly, panicking internally. That… That was pretty damn serious. Considering that he’d been possessed when they met and had been instrumental in her getting tied to a chair and almost tortured. He’d have to think about what that meant.

 

“Well,” he said, trying to gather his thoughts, “humans do that too. So I just thought that this whole heat thing would bother you, because I’d be having sex with other people. Humans call that cheating, and it’s _bad_. They often leave their… their mates, if they cheat.”

 

Malia nodded, like this made sense. “But it’s not cheating. It’s pack.”

 

Stiles stared at her for a moment, trying to discern what that meant. Did she mean that it was like a pack emergency, so it didn’t count? Or did she mean that you could have sex with anyone in the pack and it wouldn’t count as cheating? And if so, what even? None of this made any sense. But then, both wolves and coyotes moved in family groups, so cheating wouldn’t be an issue because, well, there was nobody to cheat _with_ (hell, in most cases there was nobody to cheat _on_ , seeing as your pack was your parents and siblings). This wasn’t something that made sense in human terms. Then again, what in their lives did? Damn, his head hurt.

 

“Ah, what are you saying?” He finally asked. Usually, the best way to deal with Malia was to be blunt and get straight to the point.

 

“Pack is _pack_ ,” she said. “We should be close. All of us.”

 

All of-? Nope. _No_. He wasn’t going to think about that. For all that he’d managed to get Malia to _act_ like a normal human being, she really, really wasn’t. And the fact that he’d had to explain the rules regarding injuring, maiming, and murdering people… Well, he should’ve been expecting something like this.

 

“Ooookay, but I thought I was your mate.”

 

Malia nodded eagerly, “I will have your cubs. No one else’s. But humans can control cubs, so just _sex_ doesn’t matter. With pack.”

 

Stiles stared at her. _What?_ Just. Christ. He couldn’t even. Nope. He wasn’t thinking about this. Not now. Maybe not ever. Holy shit. He needed to talk to Deaton. About this, and about _cubs_. Not now, but after heat. The talking that was. Not the cubs. He wasn’t thinking about cubs. In fact, he wasn’t going to think about any of this. Not until later. When he had some time and there was nothing huge looming. And it wasn’t really bad of him to want some supernatural disaster, was it?

 

“Cubs aside,” he managed to choke out, “you’ve been avoiding me.”

 

“Horny but not able to come,” she grumbled. “Didn’t see the point when I couldn’t do anything about it. Now, shut up. Sleep time.”

 

“Right, yeah, sure. Sleep time. Okay. We can do that. Just sleep. And pretend this conversation never happened.”

 

She clapped a hand over his mouth, fangs out and eyes glowing blue. “Sleep.”

 

He slept.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles set his alarm to give him the maximum sleep time – meaning every morning was a rush to get to school on time. It wasn’t a bad thing. Sure, it meant a rather _fast_ trip to school, but Stiles was a good driver. And road rules were more guidelines than set-in-stone-rock-solid-laws. His every morning was timed to allow sleep-ins.

 

Which is why he was so pissed to be woken by Lydia at some ungodly hour. It was _dawn_. Like, the sun wasn’t fully over the horizon. And the banshee was ripping the blankets off – literally _ripping_ , because Malia had dug her claws into them – without a single regard for his dignity.

 

He promptly flailed off the bed and onto the floor, because no one startled like Stiles did, landing hard on his tailbone with a bitten off curse. It took him a few seconds of blearily taking stock before he looked up at the strawberry-blonde and scowled.

 

“If no-one is dead, dying, missing, possessed, or otherwise in dire need, I’m going to kill you.” He grumbled. And didn’t that say something about his life that those were all highly probable scenarios?

 

She just levelled an unimpressed look at him, one that made him cringe slightly. “We have a check-up and I’m not risking you missing it because you are incapable of getting out of bed in the morning. Get dressed. Your dad is making pancakes.”

 

Malia’s head popped up from where she’d wrestled the blankets back from Lydia, “Pancakes?!”

 

She stumbled out of bed, wearing only her panties, and bounded out the door.

 

“Shit! Malia!” Stiles shouted, “Put some clothes on before-”

 

They all heard the loud bang of something in the kitchen as his father was ambushed by a mostly naked teenage girl. He groaned. Malia flew back into the room, quickly throwing on some of Stiles’ clothes before running out again.

 

“We’ve talked about this,” Stiles grumbled.

 

Lydia looked taken aback. “This happens often?”

 

“Not _that_ often,” he said defensively. “She’s definitely getting better. Normally she even wears pyjamas to bed.”

 

Lydia stared at him for a second. “Right. Well, you need to get dressed. Unless Malia stole your only clean clothes, which, from the state of your floor…”

 

Stiles shot her a nasty look, “Those weren’t clean. She likes to wear my dirty clothes. They smell like me.”

 

Lydia looked like she’d tasted something foul for a second and seemed to think better of replying, choosing to glide out the door and leave him there to dig some clothes out of the pile in the bottom of his cupboard. “Be ready in ten minutes!” She called back from somewhere in the hallway.

 

Exactly twelve minutes later, Stiles stumbled his way down the stairs, skidding into the kitchen to the sight of his dad serving up a huge platter of fluffy golden pancakes to a full table.

 

“Hey!” he shouted, betrayed. “Those aren’t buckwheat!”

 

His dad flinched guiltily, quickly setting the pancakes on the table. “I’m not eating any of these, Stiles,” he muttered.

 

“Yeah?! And how many did you already eat?”

 

His dad looked away, muttering something indistinct under his breath, something that made both Malia and Kira choke, their supernatural hearing picking up what Stiles couldn’t.

 

“ _Rude_ ,” he said to the sheriff. “Just because I don’t want you to drop dead of a heart attack next week.”

 

“Stiles,” Lydia said. “Stop terrorising your father in front of his deputy and eat. Quickly.”

 

Stiles scowled but shuffled to the table under Lydia’s stern gaze and piled his plate up with pancakes, shovelling them into his mouth whole.

 

The rest of the table continued to eat at a more sedate pace, even Malia cutting up her pancakes with her claws before eating the chunks with her fingers.

 

For some reason, Stiles and the girls were joined by Parrish and Kira, both of whom were supernatural creatures and so ostensibly didn’t need a check up. Not wanting to interrupt his eating, he tried to communicate his curiosity to Lydia solely with his eyebrows.

 

“Stop that,” she snapped. “You look like you’re about to have a fit. And chew with your mouth closed. Even Malia knows that.”

 

Suitably chastened, he slowed down his inhalation of the food, closing his mouth and chewing thoroughly before swallowing. In his peripheral vision, Parrish was trying unsuccessfully not to smile. His own mouth was curling with affection as the banshee shoved a fork into Malia’s hands and began to coach her in the importance of table manners.

 

“So,” he said to Kira. “Check ups? Isn’t that kinda unnecessary for you? And for Parrish, ‘cause of his healing factor, but I was more thinking along the lines that you can’t give Scott anything anyway. Not that I think you have anything to give him. It’s just that if you _did_ , it wouldn’t matter. And I’m going to shut up now.”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes, wielding her tableware with an almost vicious elegance. “Did you even read those books, Stiles, or did you just skim them?” Stiles opened his mouth to protest but was cut off as she continued. “One would think you’d be more invested in this, all things considered.”

 

It went unsaid that Stiles was the most invested person in the room. Parrish cleared his throat slightly.

 

“From what I can gather,” the young man said gently, “while we hope that the bond between Kira and Scott is sufficient for her to count as his mate, there is a slight chance that they will be driven to have sex with you. Unlikely, but still there. Hence the check up. And we don’t know how our healing works, so both of us are getting tested.”

 

Stiles stared at him. “Dude. You were in an exploding car and didn’t get a scratch. That shit would’ve killed even an alpha, so I’m fairly sure your healing is up to the task of chlamydia.”

 

Lydia scowled at him. “He probably died, Stiles,” she said, the _duh_ coming through strongly in her tone. “That’s what phoenixes do. They die and then come back to life. We don’t know how healing works when the wound isn’t fatal, so venereal disease is still a concern.”

 

“Well, I’m glad you’re looking out for my son’s safety, but I don’t want to hear this,” the sheriff grumbled from the other side of the kitchen counter. “I would like to get him back disease free. And uninjured. Other than that, I don’t want to know.”

 

Lydia pursed her lips. “And to that effect, it’s almost time. Let’s go.”

 

Stiles grabbed two last pancakes, shoving the first in his mouth as he ran up the stairs to grab his backpack. Chances were they would be going to school straight after the appointment – none of them could afford to miss more school, with heat week fast approaching.

 

Malia stumbled back up to his bedroom, undoubtedly planning on more sleep before running to school. He would have been jealous of her werecoyote-ness if it wasn’t for the whole accidentally killing her family thing. I mean, she didn’t have to go to this ridiculous check-up.  Surely that made up for some of it? Or maybe Stiles was biased by the hour of the morning and not thinking straight. It was a slight possibility.

 

He climbed into the backseat of Lydia’s car, holding three more pancakes, watching in disbelief as Parrish held the passenger door open for Kira and trying not to feel like an idiot for not doing the same for Lydia. Hey, for all Lydia knew he was supporting her feminine strength and ability by demeaning her like that. His inferiority complex had nothing to do with him feeling like a cad. It _didn’t_.

 

The moment he was in the backseat with Parrish, both of them doing up their seatbelts, Lydia threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the driveway. At speed. Stiles grabbed hold of the jesus bar, knuckles turning white and Parrish braced himself against the door and Kira’s seat. How had Stiles forgotten this? Lydia’s driving wasn’t an experience he had thought he _could_ forget. _Ever_. At least they’d have warning of their impending doom – Lydia would almost certainly _scream_ before the fiery impact, being a banshee and all.

 

* * *

 

 

It was probably the work of some higher power that they made it to the hospital unscathed. Stiles unclenched his stiff fingers from their death grip on the handle and even the unflappable Parrish was looking slightly ruffled. Only Kira and Lydia herself seemed fine – Kira had kept up a constant stream of chatter as they’d swerved around corners, ran red lights and breezed past stop signs.

 

He silently thanked all of his practice at life-or-death situations – it had probably been the only thing stopping him from actually wetting himself. Hell, he’d faced down a rabid Alpha over Lydia’s bleeding body. It would have lost him infinite cool points to have started screaming over the girl’s driving.

 

As it was, he managed to pull himself together and drag his lanky body out of her car without collapsing in a heap. She was already checking her watch and swanning away, leaving the other three to follow like a trail of ducklings.

 

He wasn’t sure what they looked like as they slumped into the uncomfortable chairs in the sexual health department’s waiting room. Maybe a double date from hell, two men – one boy and one man if you were being technical, but whatever – and two women, waiting in a small group to get sexual health checkups. It was just weird. They all sat together and filled out their little clipboards, muttering at the stupidity of the questions and trying to sneak peaks at each other’s answers. When they’d all finished, Lydia gathered the clipboards up and dropped them off at the reception, flicking through to make sure they’d answered all of the questions. If he wasn’t so amused, he would have been insulted. It was such a _Lydia_ thing to do.

 

Maybe she’d intimidated the reception staff because Stiles was called – by his last name, thank _god_ – less than 5 minutes later. After the excruciatingly embarrassing test, which no amount of professionalism could reduce, he wandered back down the corridor only to be waylaid by Liam’s stepfather.

 

Oh god help him. The doctor couldn’t be happy with the situation – Liam was so young and he was kinda being forced into this and even though nobody had said the “R” word, Stiles really doubted he was the only one that had been thinking it.

 

“Calm down,” the doctor said kindly, placing a reassuring hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “I’m not upset with you.”

 

“You’re not?” Stiles blurted dumbly.

 

“Well, it’s not your fault. I’m actually grateful that you are willing do this for your friends.”

 

Huh. “So what can I do for you?” Stiles asked. _If you aren’t here to kill me_ , he added mentally.

 

The man chuckled. “I just wanted to reassure you,” he said easily. “It must be quite confronting to be in this situation. Now, Liam is straight and young and not at all attracted to you and I’m sure this is not going to be a fantastic experience for him, but that is not your fault or your responsibility.”

 

Stiles stared at him. _What?_ What was even happening here? His mouth was hanging open, probably unattractively.

 

“I know about the lengths you’ve gone to for your friends, Stiles,” the doctor said softly. “You don’t have to save everyone. All you have to do is what you can. Make the decisions that you think are best at any given time. I get the feeling that you take on far too much responsibility.”

 

Stiles opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by the doctor’s raised hand.

 

“Just do what you can, Stiles. You don’t need to feel guilty about what happens with Liam, because it isn’t your fault. Okay?”

 

Stiles nodded mutely and accepted a single clap on the shoulder and a smile from the doctor before making his escape and hightailing it to Lydia. It was weird, coming from an almost total stranger, but he did feel better. Sure, he was going to have to get down and dirty with Liam, who was painfully young and almost certainly a virgin, but maybe he could shelve the “R” word for now. They’d get their results, hopefully clean, and get through heat. There would be plenty of time for emotional introspection after that. As it was, he folded his gangly limbs and sank down cross-legged in front of Lydia’s chair and rested back against her legs. She gently combed her fingers through his hair.

 

This was the reason he took on so much. Because he couldn’t lose any of these people. They were so much more than friends or pack. They were family, and he loved each and every one of them.


End file.
